My 2018 motto has been ‘Do not deny yourself a blossoming’ and I believe this will continue on to the next year God willing. Have I blossomed? Not completely but I have noticed a few changes; a bit of a glow up, eating more, caring less about what I cannot control and taking control of my attitude, it really does play a big role.

But…

There is always a but not as huge as mine but it cannot be ignored. Sticks out like KICC (Kenya International Convention Center), don’t gasp we all know you’ve been staring a little harder at the erect building after we got wind of what inspired its shape.

There is this habit that keeps coming up. Not caused by any one but by myself. I have to admit that sometimes I am my own enemy and it sucks to actually know that you are the one who’s been causing your own heart breaks.

I don’t mean heart breaks like in romantic relationships, naaah not today. It’s in the small things that are actually the big things.

Like in an event and you think you don’t want to help yourself to the snacks. Free snacks. This is definitely an eye-roll situation. So what do you do? You sit still and only help yourself to the bottled water on the table. You don’t want to look like a glutton. You don’t want to ruin your figure or unsettle your waist. So you ignore your stomach’s cries, your heavy heart and the ‘fuck you’ being formed by the clouds above just because of what others might think. You’re so proud of yourself, you’ve got Ciara’s ‘Level Up’ playing in your mind. Guess what you just did? You’ve just broken your own heart. You die a little inside. Don’t do it. Don’t break your own heart. Get that platter and eat. Get that food and smile. Go get some more. Nobody cares darling.

So do it, I dare you. I double dare you. Head over to the event DJ and ask them to play ‘Fire Waist’. Tell them you want to align your full stomach to your mood.

Do you ever see someone and think, ‘Well damn, I would like that. I would like that to myself. I would like that a lot. Probably all day, probably every day’. Then it happens. The dumbass in you tells you it’s never going to happen. You start thinking why would a person like that want a person like me. You switch your contagious smile to a tasteless frown. Quite sad right? Why the hell do we do that? Where does that demon come from? Pissing all over your fantasies. You could be sitting on someone’s shoulders, in a concert of course or whatever that just tickled your fancy;power to the free thinkers! But there you are drinking free bottled water. Don’t do it. Don’t break your own heart. Flash that smile. They might not take your number but they could smile back and that would be pretty great.

You’re at a party or in a club and the DJ is doing a horrible job. Definitely not what he’s getting paid to do. But no one talks. Nobody is saying anything and every time the urge to tell them to play your favorite comes up, you shut that thought down faster than a Kenyan on Twitter who just got hit on. There is no way you used money to get to a place where somebody’s being paid to give you a hell of a good time but miserably failing at it. Don’t do it. Don’t break your own heart. Walk over there. Tell them they need to switch it up. Don’t be rude. Do it nicely, gently, politely. Just do it. And surprisingly it works.

Someone just saw you after a long time and the first thing they need to point out is your weight. You don’t like it. I don’t like it either. Who are you to tell me whether I’ve added weight? If I have no problem with it why would you? Please note that I am talking about those people who you’re not even close with. The people who don’t know you like that. But what do you do? You keep silent. It hurt you but you do not vocalize your feelings. You keep mum. You don’t want to ruin the mood. Don’t do it. Don’t break your own heart. Ruin that damn mood. If I hardly ever see you, I plan on keeping it that way. So how my weight is shooting up should not concern you. Why is it weighing you down that I’m living it up? May be if they started minding their own business they would add a little weight of their own. (Don’t say this, just think it. You’ll feel so much better) They’ll never do it again. Well, you’ll probably never see them again either. Win-win?

Well that was salty. Where’s the free bottled water when you need it?

They say some opportunities only come once. How many do you think you have missed? I don’t know either but I hate that feeling of fear that holds you back from doing something that could have turned out really great, or not but it’s better when you learn. It always is. I had been thinking of going to Biko Zulu’s Creative Writing Masterclass for the longest time but I kept brushing that thought away. I finally did it and I have never been so proud of myself. I don’t know if I have grown but I feel that I took a step that I really needed to take. I also got to see his forehead haha. I met amazing people. Great people who were looking to find themselves and we kind of did it together in a space I had been so afraid to enter. It’s scary. Doing things you’ve never done before and actually going for them. The end-result scares you. Shrek’s got nothing on how scary it is to come out of your comfort zone. But let’s not do it. Let’s not break our own hearts. May we try what we can and be happy that we actually did it.

I just shuddered from writing that. Deep stuff.

I have no idea who has gone through this. There’s that time you start realizing that there’s some things that have been taking away a bit of your happiness. Little by little. Some just popped up right? I have some of my own and I do not know the best way to get away from it all but I am glad that I know that there’s something amiss. It hits harder when you’re adulting. The last thing I want to do in my journey to Bloomdale (I did mention that I am on a blossoming journey. I gave the destination a name, makes it fun) is deny what I clearly know is wrong in my life. It does not get better but knowing something is wrong gets you out there looking for solutions. God bless memes right?

But seriously don’t do it. Don’t break your own heart. Do not ignore the things that take away your joy. The government is already doing that.

Honestly, let’s take care of ourselves a little better than we’ve been doing. Let’s be kinder to ourselves. Let’s not break our own hearts.

Like this:

But the best way to shock yourself is to dig deep into your own imagination. Play it out in your head.

Surprise yourself.

When God was creating me, putting sugar, spice and everything nice, He sprinkled a little ‘extra’. And that my friend explains a lot. Oh, who am I kidding? It explains everything.

It was a bloody Monday.

I woke up earlier than I should feeling like, you guessed it, death. It wasn’t the usual ‘Do I really need this job?’ internal conflict. It was a heavy head, a blistering fever and an enormous need to close my eyes. But oh well, aren’t all mornings like that when you hate your job? I ignored the ‘familiar’ feeling and got ready for work.

I never apply lipstick while going to work but, but on this day, I matched my lips with my intimates.

Ruby red.

I looked fine. The fine like wine that’s been aged in time.

The kind of fine that gets someone to ask, “How are you?”

And in your finesse, you answer,” I am fine, thank you for asking but you’re basically confirming what you’ve seen with what is pretty clear.”

That kind of fine.

Some call make-up a facade. I call it magic.

Told you, ‘extra’ AF.

It happened after breakfast. After eating my mother’s juicy pancakes and downing them with cinnamon tea, life happened or death. Whatever.

Just after saying goodbye to my mother, pillar of my life, empress of my existence, strength to my weakness, I got this sharp pain in my chest and collapsed. The beginning of the end.

It got cold and dark. You know how death is.

Despite my mother’s ear-splitting screams, I still did not wake up. Our neighbors helped her rush me to hospital as she called my father. Well with those screams, it’s not like they had a choice.

“She won’t open her eyes.” My mother was shouting, screaming, shaking me. I guess this is what nagging feels like. Fellas I feel you.

When the doctor pulled my mother aside to break it down to her, my soul could not stand to watch.

Well my soul could not stand at all because it was floating. That’s what souls do right?

Screams. Tears. More screams.

Floating.

I was floating away from it all. Without even a proper goodbye.

How rude?

I felt a presence. God’s presence.

When I think of God I think of His presence, filling every space with peace and light, well the other one must announce itself with a horrible odor. Rotten eggs, public toilets. That kind of thing.

Not today Satan.

Because minnie me was in God’s presence

“I am so sorry,” God said.

“Really?”

“Okay not really, I think it was time,” said the Almighty.

“You think?” I was floating higher than I should, I guess that’s what souls do when they get angry.

“Yes.”

“So, I am here because you had a thought that my time had come?”

Yes.”

“Since it was just a thought, can you change your mind?”

“No. What will people say?”

“You’re God you don’t care what people say.”

“It’s still no. You get points for trying though.”

“Like going back to earth?”

“Don’t push it.”

“I wish you were a procrastinator. Wait a little you know.” I was pleading my case at this point.

“Then I would have delayed this till tomorrow. A Tuesday. How boring? Mondays are more dramatic.”

“Oh wow, well thank God then.”

“You’re welcome, also good choice of lipstick, way to go.”

Cheers!

Share this:

Like this:

I know it was not meant to go this way but this woman that I was going to marry had made me consider bachelorhood for the first time in a long time. Everything had been going well. Bliss and peace. A lot of the steamy romance, with some finances of course because love never put food on the table.

Her name is Rita.

This woman has got some great legs on her. I love them. I used to wake up in the middle of the night to check on them. Maybe they needed water, maybe they need a massage, maybe they needed a midnight snack, you never know with these legs so I always had to confirm.

Rita had been a good friend. Always charming and her smile just melted my heart every time she flashed it, which was a lot of times. Being a fellow artist with her own art studio made us fast friends and we got along even better. Let’s just say our relationship kicked off when she let me paint her body in my favorite color. Yes, you read right. The woman allowed me to paint her whole body in green and in the most artistic way I could. I took some pictures which turned out great, she looked like she was wearing a forest and yellow flowers. Cleaning her up was the best part. We ended up in my place. I woke her up, breakfast in bed. I was in love. Pathetic. Common sense had left my body. The roller-coaster had begun.

Rita is a great artist. I hate to admit it but sometimes I think she is better than me. I had no problem with that. But what I had a problem with was that this goddess, this short cute little thing with a coffee complexion, charcoal-black dreadlocks, hazel-brown eyes, was drinking more than I did. In the beginning I hardly noticed because I was crazy in love, stupid in love, it was so wrong yet so right. It was everything I wanted it to be or so I thought. I just wanted Rita by my side because I desperately wanted our relationship to grow old. I wanted our relationship to speak for us, to lift us up when we were down and pat us on the back when we did it proud. I wanted our relationship to look at us and say, “We did it guys!”

Yes, I’m that kinda guy. I hold my lady’s hand in public, I open doors for her, I pull out chairs and I pull out in the bedroom because well, let’s live while we’re young.

Share this:

Like this:

And now I understand why some women say, “I am going to cut a bitch. ”

Alvin, the love of my life, father to my children, ying to my yang, breath to my air, cheddar to my cheese, was screwing another woman. Well, they must have fit perfectly together considering the number of times he got stuck in ‘traffic’.

I can think of all the excuses he could have come up with. Maybe it’s the look I give him every morning when he’s in the mood and I tell him, “We’re no longer 20 years old.”

I know my cooking skills are not the best. My two-year old daughter could use my stews as a kiddy pool. But Alvin has small hands, so I guess we’re even.

“Where did you meet her? ”

He looked pained by my question. Like it actually bruised him trying to think of a good lie.

“In the club, ” he said.

Typical Alvin. So predictable. If I was him I would have gone for an exotic dancer. Those women are wild. Crazy even. I’m one of the careful ones so I would have understood if he had given her one look and said, “Screw it, you only live once. ”

But not Alvin. No. He’s boring. He must have seen her emerge from the crowd on the dance floor and sent a waiter with a drink. A cocktail. With umbrellas and shit. Strong enough to get you tipsy but not enough to take you home. The usual tired line of his guitar-playing days in campus must have come up. Alvin is horrible at flirting. I’d probably do it for him and get the girl all to myself. We’d live a happy life, her and I.

She must have fallen for his fashion sense. The damn clothes I arrange for him every morning while he’s in the shower.

“If I meet her, I’ll cut her. Deep enough to leave a mark and for you to know what I’m capable of, ” I said to Alvin as we headed to church on a gloom Sunday morning.

Share this:

Like this:

I had just left Megan’s house. And this Megan does not even come close to the Duchess of Sussex, royalty and composure. Not that I am into 35-year old divorcees, far too exposed hehe plus I still got youth on my skin, bones and walk (my father gave me some good genes) sorry for being so forward but that is just who I am. Okay sorry not sorry. If you get offended I will tell you as our notorious Akothee does, call polis!

So back to my Megan. She had asked me to leave her two-bedroom flat in Kabete because of my philandering ways. First of all, I am not anything like that. She had said that I had never taken her out on a date until I reminded her of our crazy night in Brew (the one in Westlands) then she blatantly reminded me that I had only gone there because it was her friend’s party and there was free booze. Oh! So that’s how I ended up in Kabete the next morning without planning to. Megan had taken me home. Literally. Long story short is I like my whisky dark, I like my whisky dry, I like my whisky Jack and I never say no to Jack. So Megan and a friend of hers had to carry my staggering behind to the cab. No, I did not black out in the cab, I went ahead and brazenly flirted with Megan’s friend (I swear it was Jack) so that’s why I woke up on the couch. She did not even cover me with a blanket. You would have thought I had cheated on her. The nerve of that woman.

Anyway, I had never taken Megan out. She said she was not looking for anything serious so all we did was fairly scandalous and it all took place in her flat. She liked cooking and she always had the energy to whip something up and bring it to bed. She hardly ate when I was around, she would just smoke her spliff and I would force-feed her like a child. After that she would sleep and I would kiss her forehead and go home. That was our routine, no feelings, no ‘how was your day?’, just Megan, me, no drama and her spliff of course.

Megan is a fairly tall glass of chocolate. The brown chocolate kind. Her skin is like caramel. Smooth, silky and dreamy. I swear I have seen her skin sparkle whenever the rays of the sun hit her in the morning through the bedroom windows. It takes my breath away. She smells like caramel too, probably her shower gel. Her smile is something else, it’s inspirational, it is kind and beautiful. I think I keep going to Kabete because of that smile. Her smile could stop a war. Not Megan no, Megan is war itself but her smile could fix a broken cabinet. Her smile could stop corruption. She is on the thick side of life. Her derriere take corners of their own. You know how you could say, Megan took a corner well you would have to add that her derriere followed closely behind. Yes, Megan and her derriere. Separate entities. If a derriere takes corners then you have to respect it and give it a personality. Yes, I am weird like that.

Share this:

Like this:

(Tim’s short encounter with love)

It was a cold night in July and I had been forced by my BFF to attend his cousin’s birthday party in a nice suburb, I won’t tell you where. This is the kind of suburb where you arrive having been driven or better yet having driven yourself. That’s all I’m giving you. Did I say BFF?? This is what happens to an ordinary guy from the hood once he starts visiting the suburbs. Well, Rick is a great pal, my ‘best bud’, if a guy is allowed to say that. It’s been 10 years and what I will say next might sound a bit gay but I wouldn’t mind growing old with this guy. Well not just me and him… but he is the kind of friend I would leave my children with and go for a romantic holiday with the wife and not worry. For now that might not be entirely true because Rick is yet to settle down with one woman and I don’t know if she would like me so much considering the fact that the bromance between Rick and I is quite solid.

Back to the birthday party. It was filled with men and women in their late twenties and early thirties struggling to socialize in hope to score a ‘Mr Right’ or a ‘Wild Card’ to count the night as a success. What a story that would be, ” I saw him from across the room holding a whiskey tumbler, chatting up his friends. He was the life of the party and his white shiny fedora hat made him even more attractive. When our eyes met I knew he was ‘the one’.” Classic tale right? So there I was trying to socialize too, honestly looking for the ‘wild card’ type who would not mind ditching the party for some real fun in Westie. I hate to disappoint you, but I did find her. Though she was not so wild and she ended up making me stay. Let’s call her Lisa.

Lisa was sitting on the sofa chatting with her friends holding red tumblers in their hands when I went to sit across them disappointed by the shortage of wild cards in the party. They were talking about make-up and how men should stop dictating what they should apply on their faces and what they should wear blah blah blah. I was already bored so in order to rattle some feathers I asked them if they were married, hehe. They all threw me nasty looks but Lisa just stuck her tongue out at me and I immediately wanted to know her name. I was curious to know who this woman was who was not at all affected by what I said but just like a little girl does to the boys in Kindergarten whom she does not ‘like’, simply responded in a childish way. She liked me and after studying her brown eyes, flawless dark-chocolate skin and her yellow figure-hugging dress I knew right there that I liked her too.

I brought her a drink as instructed, ” Warm water with ice cubes and a lemon slice in a red tumbler.” Lisa wanted people to think that she was drinking Vodka but was actually drinking lemon-laced water. I thanked the heavens for this woman who had offered a conversation starter. I stole her away from her ‘single and bitter’ friends and we stepped out to the balcony to get to know each other. She told me that she was taking water because she does not take alcohol but people in parties never understand that so it was better to fool them using the red cup. Clever one. I promised myself if she was going to go all feminist on me, I would respectfully excuse myself and leave Rick at the party. Don’t get me wrong, I support women fighting for their rights and all but this was a party and I was not in the mood for hearing what Oprah had said during the Golden Globes. I had watched it live and I am not bragging but I went on to print a black shirt written ‘Time’s Up’ in bold. Ladies if you have any women’s rights demos coming up, hallar at your boy!

Where were we? Oh yea…Lisa. She turned out to be this fun loving woman in her mid-twenties. She made me laugh the whole night and I must say that for an attractive woman to make you laugh and not talk about shisha for a whole night is incredibly breath-taking. We were really getting along, she told me she was an accountant in a government agency and she lived with her cousin who was also her BFF ( that dreaded word again). Lisa was a breath of fresh air and just when I wanted to tell her that I think the beach is most peaceful place in the world, Rick came to announce our departure. He told me off for not even going to sing ‘happy birthday’ to his cousin but I let him know Lisa had my ribs aching for a while and he let me off the hook. Of course I took her number before I left. Thinking about that right now, I wish I hadn’t, I should have just thanked her for a wonderful night and left but who laughs at an attractive woman’s jokes the whole night and leaves without her number? Not me.